


At the Beginning with You

by Toppbanana



Series: Opening Walls Verse [2]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Anastasia AU, Breif mention/implication of child abuse, Childhood Friends, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mistaken Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 03:04:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11454654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toppbanana/pseuds/Toppbanana
Summary: Sometimes all it takes to form a friendship is a book, a banana, and a ghost to leave them behind.





	At the Beginning with You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [greatspacedustbin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/greatspacedustbin/gifts).



> I originally planned for Rose to tell John a story after his nightmare to calm him. It was the story of a girl who would sneak a young prince his favourite fruit from the kitchens to cheer him up (the true story of how they met at the palace). However, as I started writing it, it ended up becoming more of John's perspective and no longer fit with my original plan for it, so I scrapped it. But I just couldn't get this little story out of my head, and well, here we are! 
> 
> A birthday gift for Greatspacedustbin. Thank you for always sticking with me.
> 
> *Set just prior to the prologue*

_“He looks like an ugly little hedgehog!”_

_“I do not!”_

_“Or maybe a fuzzy wittle mole sticking his wittle head out of his hidey-widey-hole!”_

_“Stop it!”_

_“Oh, dear! Have I gone and made his Royal Hedgieness spring a leak? Boo-hoo-hoo!”_

Cousin River’s cruel, taunting laughter still rang in his ears like a gong.

“Why’re you cryin’?” A little girl with lopsided blonde braids poked her head under the table where he had taken refuge. She was a few years younger than him. Her face was pale and rosy at the same time, like one of the China dolls Amelia coveted.

“I’m not crying,” Theta defended with a dignified huff. He quickly looked away to scrub his face of the stray tears.

“Well, it looks to me like you are.”

“Well, I’m not, okay?”

“’s okay to, you know.” The girl sat down next to the table, but didn’t crawl under. She was tiny; her faded blue dress hung off her petite frame like a potato sack cinched at the waist with a tattered apron. “I cried a lot when I first started here too. ‘Specially after my first lickin’.”

Theta looked at her in confusion. She spoke with such openness and without any of the hesitation others had, if they even spoke to him at all. Perhaps she didn’t recognize him. After River had said he looked like an ugly hedgehog while wearing his coronation outfit, he lobbed it out the nearest window and threw on something that was the complete opposite: a dirty pair of trousers and an old grey shirt he ‘borrowed’ from the laundry a few weeks prior (a trick cousin Mickey taught him– ‘Never know when you might need to blend in with the locals, Boss.’). Then it occurred to him that this little girl was a servant, and she thought he was one too.

“Wanna talk about it? Sometimes it helps to have a friend. ‘Power in numbers’ an’ ‘The hands below will rise above’ at least, that’s what I hear them say in the kitchens. I don’t really know what it means, but everyone seems to get really excited when someone says it.” She finally stopped to take a breath and look at him. Her eyes looked like Grandpapa Wilf’s brandy in the firelight of his study. “I don’t have many friends here, but can I tell you a secret?”

Without much other choice, Theta nodded. The little girl beamed and slid under the table beside him. She smelled like firewood and sweet lavender honey scones.

“The library in the west wing of the palace is haunted,” she whispered conspiratorially.

“Haunted?” Theta’s eyes snapped to hers. He practically lived out of that library.  It was the furthest place from ‘Rooms of Royal Responsibility’, as his father like to call them, but more importantly, it was filled with books and had the skylight with the best view of the stars.

“Shh!” the girl clapped a hand over his mouth. “After my first lashing, I wanted to run away. Far, far away, but I got lost. I found this big room with walls made of books. I hid behind a chair and cried. After a while, I heard footsteps and I thought they had found me, so I tried to stay quiet. When nothing happened, I looked up, but no one was there! But, right in the middle of the floor was a book that wasn’t there before! It was about a princess who traded places with a dragon. And that’s not even the weirdest part!”

Theta knew the book well. Grandpapa Wilf used to read it to him when he was sad. He also remembered that exact day she was talking about. He was supposed to be learning about his family tree, but got bored after tracing it back as far as his father, so he started tinkering with a broken telescope instead.  He heard someone enter the library, so he quickly scurried under his desk. Instead of being discovered and getting another lecture, he heard the person quietly sobbing behind a chair. Unsure of what to do, he turned to what used to cheer him up.

“Next to the book, was a Banana!” She covered her mouth to stifle her giggles. “Now, I know what you’re thinking: one magic book and a banana doesn’t make it a haunted library. Well, you would be wrong about that!” The girl crossed her arms with a smug smile. She was clearly waiting for him to prompt her to continue. Her joy and excitement were contagious, and Theta found himself ginning too.

“What else happened?”

“Well!” She took a deep breath and launched into her next tale. “After I finished the book, I had to return it. I’m not a book thief, you know.”

“Of course not,” Theta responded after she leveled him with what he knew was supposed to be a stern look (it was about as stern as puppy staring him down for a belly rub, but he indulged just the same).

“I am also not ungrateful. The ghost left me a book and a banana. I returned the book, but I had no way of returning the banana after I ate it. So, I brought him a shiny red apple instead. But, I think he likes bananas more. I always find the peels around the desk.”

Theta fought down a snort. His father was always hounding him about not throwing his banana peels in the bin, he was not raised in a barn after all.

“Now, I always try my best to bring him a banana. He likes the ones that are still mostly yellow the best, ‘cuz if they’re too brown, he won’t eat the bottom. Or pears. I only left one of those once, and I vowed to never do it again. Not even one bite. You’d think it was poison or something.”

“Can’t be too careful with some fruits.” Theta grinned at the girl’s cleverness. She was obviously very bright. She may not have access to the same level of education he did, but she clearly possessed the ability to read, and more importantly, the ability to read people.

“And in return, my ghost leaves me things too! It’s usually books, but he’s also left a small bundle of dried lavender for my pillow, an’ some pretty pink ribbons for my hair, an’ a pair of gloves in the winter when I had to go look for winter berries, but my favourite was a little pin with a painted purple flower on it. Look!”

She pulled out something that was hanging from her neck on a ribbon (one of the aforementioned pink ribbons, he noticed), and in the middle hung a small white brooch with a painted Gallifreyan Iris: a symbol of hope and friendship. The way this little girl held the object showed how much she cared for it. I touched Theta’s heart deeply.

“I think the ghost might be lonely,” she mused quietly, tucking her little charm away safely. Her voice sounded almost melancholy. “There are so many people and faces in the palace, but it’s so hard to not feel alone sometimes. So, I made him a promise that I would be his friend, and whenever either one of us gets sad, the other will come help.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you.” He knew the exact feeling she was talking about. The day he found that first apple was the first time in a long time he actually felt a bubble of warmth and joy curl in the pit of his stomach. He felt cherished. He thought back to all the times he had found the little offerings of fruit waiting for him in the library, and always made sure to leave a small token in return, but it was her solemn vow of friendship that truly made his heart soar.

“I was actually bringing him his daily banana when I heard you crying. I think he’ll understand if you have it instead.” She reached into the pocket of her apron and pulled out the yellow fruit.

He held the fruit in his hand and could only stare at it. This little girl was so full of kindness and life. Without hesitation, she offered a helping hand (or delicious fruit) to anyone who needed it. It didn’t matter if that person was a living, breathing person, or (what she thought to be) a faceless entity. He was in complete awe of her.

“Do you want a hand peelin’ it? They can be a bit tricky sometimes, but if a ghost can do it, it can’t be impossible, right? Unless they’ve got mystical magic, and little bat creatures emerge from some glowing thing and peel it for him.”

He couldn’t help the laugh that emerged from his mouth. “Well, I don’t have any little bats or a glowing thing, for that matter, but I think I can manage.”

He cracked open the top and ridded the fruit of its outer casing before tearing it and half and offered the top half to the girl. “I, too, am not ungrateful.”

They both nibbled on their banana in companionable silence before Theta realized while they had been indirectly meeting and bonding over the past few months, he had no idea what her name was. However, just as he was about to open his mouth to ask such a question, a loud, angry shout erupted into their little sanctuary under the table.

“Where the hell are you, Rose. I told you if I caught you sneaking out of the kitchens again, I’d double your beltin’.”

Next to him, the girl froze. Her face was as white as a sheet. Trembling fingers automatically went to the back of her left hand. Her small, delicate hand was adorned with bruises and welts in various stages of healing. It was like her skin was a canvas for pain and suffering.

“If I gotta ask you to come out again, I’m gonna to up it to fifteen. An’ then maybe I’ll let Igor take you for a nice long run. He’s been dying for a new playmate after he ripped out that little she-mutt’s throat,” the man growled. The girl muffled a whimper into her fist, and for the first time in his life, Theta felt true rage burn through his blood. He needed to offer support as well as ground himself before he did anything stupid. He twined his fingers through her free hand and tried to catch her eye, but her eyes where scrunched tight. A single tear managed to squeeze through.

A set of dirty, sausage-like fingers gripped the edge of the tablecloth and yanked it upwards. “There you are, you little slag.”

An unsightly looking man, with a balding head of greasy dark hair, and the filthiest apron Theta has ever seen, yanked the girl out from under the table, but not before Theta caught the look of dread in her eyes. A loud crack of skin against skin assaulted his ears, but the pained cry that followed was a hundred times worse.

“That’ll teach you for running off, now get up before I-“

“Before you what?” Theta thundered in the most commanding voice he could muster as he emerged from under the table. “And think about your answer very carefully, sir, for you are not only in the presence of your Prince and heir to the throne, but also a young lady.” He nodded his head towards the girl.

The man’s face shuffled from anger to horror so fast it would have been comical had the circumstances been vastly different.

“Your Royal Highness,” the man rasped and dropped into a sloppy bow. “I did not-I did not see you there.”

“Evidently not.”

“My humblest apologies, sir, I was merely searching for this runaway brat-” Theta halted the man’s speech with a raise of his hand.

“You will do well to hold your tongue until you are spoken to, sir.”

The man, a cook in the kitchens judging by his appearance, nodded and averted his gaze downward.

“What is your name, sir? It does not seem proper to address you on the same level as a Medieval knight, when you are on par with that of a leech collector. What should I call you, or would you just prefer Steaming Pile of Dog Shite?”

He knew his mother would probably faint at his foul language, but the quiet squeak and flutters of a smirk from the girl –Rose– it was all worth it. He fought down a triumphant grin of his own.

“Fel-Fotch, sir,” The cook choked, his eyes still trained on the ground. “Jocrassa Fel-Fotch. I am second in command to the palace’s head chef, your Highness. It is my duty to-“

“Ah, ah, ah, I did not ask you what your duty was, Mr. Fel-Fotch. All I wanted to know was how I may address you, should I need to in the future. For now, you may wait by the door in silence while I contemplate what I will do with you, but for that I need to collect further intel and opinions from those I trust greatly. That is, after all, what a good and just ruler does.”

He waited for the pitiful lump of a man to shuffle to the door before he approached Rose and knelt by her side. “Rose? Is that your name?”

The girl nodded, her eyes carefully avoiding his. “Yes, your Highness.” Her voice trembled and it nearly broke his heart.

“Are you all right?” Rose nodded mutely, but he could see the small cut on her bottom lip. He needed to hear her voice. “Rose, please look at me.”

Her eyes met his own, but the brightness he basked in earlier had now been clouded over with fear and sadness. With tear dotted lashes, she blinked at him. He itched to brush away the drops that slipped down her cheeks and wrap his arms around her, to protect her from further cruelty.

“Your Highness? Sir?” Rose breathed. The soft warmth of her voice was like balm to his soul. He closed his eyes and let it soothe him. “Are you okay? You’re shaking.”

Theta couldn’t help but laugh. This remarkable girl, who likely endured abuse regularly, was asking about his wellbeing. He glanced down at his hands and saw that her observation of ‘shaking’ was a bit of an understatement.

“I have a bit of a confession to make, Rose,” he whispered earnestly. “I’ve never done anything like that before. It’s a little bit scary.”

Rose’s smaller fingers brushed his tentatively, a wordless question that he answered in kind by linking them loosely together.

“Well, I think you did very well,” Rose grinned softly, lightly squeezing his hand. “Very brave.”

“Actually, I think you’re the brave one.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you, Rose. It takes a lot of courage to work next to a monster, but it takes even more courage to not let monster change you. You walk willingly into a battle everyday armed with kindness and compassion, not anger and hatred. And to me, that is one of the bravest things anyone can ever do.”

A slow blush crept up her cheeks. “Your highness, I-”

“Please, call me Theta. All of my friends do. At least they would if I had any.”

“There’s me,” Rose said quietly, but it wasn’t out of fear or hesitation. There was weight in her words, only spoken softly to preserve their value. A treasure for only the two of them to share. And it completely rendered Theta speechless.

“Rose would it…Would it be…May I hug you?”

Rose barely let him finish his sentence before she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Thank you,” they both whispered at the same time, each of them pouring as much gratitude they could into it.

“You don’t always have to bring fruit with you when you come to the library, you know.”

“He doesn’t like it?”

Theta chuckled. “Oh, trust me, he loves the fruit! But he wouldn’t want you to get blamed for something going missing from the kitchens.”

“Oh.” Rose looked down at her hands quickly. Theta wondered how many of those marks were from the bananas she brought him, and inwardly cursed himself for being so selfish.

“Won’t the ghost get sad, though?”

“Sad? Why would he be sad?”

“Well, you said that he loves the fruit, and if I stopped bringing him stuff, he’ll think I don’t care about him anymore. That I don’t want to be his friend anymore.”

“Oh Rose, I don’t think the ghost would think that at all! I have it on good authority that he just likes when you visit!”

“Really?”

“Really!” Theta nodded his head eagerly, begging her to believe him. “In fact, I bet he would love it if you spent you next day off in the library with him, just reading and being together. It’s always been about more than the fruit to him. Besides, I think it’s about time he brought the fruit, don’t you?”

“Are you sure? I think you’re un-under-esti-esti-estimating the ghost’s love for bananas. They make him very happy! Sometimes, I think I can hear him humming songs through the walls after I leave.”

“I’m very sure! This is not the face of a lying-mcliar!” He made a funny face just to hear Rose giggle, and he was not disappointed with her reaction. He filed away the sound in his memory to recall when he needed it most. It was right next to the image of her smile and the sensation of her hand in his.

“Okay, well how about this,” Rose offered. “Why don’t you come to the library that day too!”

“’Scuse me, your Highness?” the cook interrupted weakly from his spot by the door.

“What is it, Mr. Fel-Fotch?” Theta sighed.

“It’s getting late, and I’ve got to be back to the kitchens, sir.”

“Well, it would be rude to be late for dinner prep! Off you pop, then!” Theta gave a halfhearted wave before turning back to Rose.

“I need to bring the girl with me, sir.”

“What?”

“The girl, your Highness, she needs-“

“Rose.”

“Sir?” The cook finally looked up at him. His chubby cheeks and pockmarked forehead were beaded with sweat making him look even more greasy.

“Her name is Rose, and you will address her as such,” Theta commanded, getting to his feet and crossing the floor so he was toe to toe with Mr. Fel-Fotch.

“And if I find out you or anyone else has caused any harm to my friend, Rose, I will have them thrown out of the palace faster than you can say banana. That is not a threat Mr. Fel-Fotch, that is a promise. You get one warning. That was it. Do I make myself clear?”

“Ye…Yes, sir.”

“Brilliant!” Theta flashed him a manic grin before walking back over to Rose and helping her to her feet.

“I’m going to see if I can get you transferred out of the kitchens,” Theta whispered. “Move you to my mother’s chambers, or with Aunt Sarah Jane, or you can help Grandpapa Wilf when he stays! He would love you!”

“Thank you,” Rose answered by launching herself at him for another hug.

“No Rose, Thank you.” Theta pulled back with a smile. He brought the backs of her hands up to his lips and kissed them, just like the knights did to the princesses in his books. “Thank you for everything.”

With cheeks of crimson, Rose slowly walked over to where the cook was rooted to the spot, his eyes blazing. Theta smiled to himself and caught Rose’s eye as they left. However, the grin slipped away when he heard Mr. Fel-Fotch murmur something in Rose’s ear just as the door clicked shut.

“Get your head out the clouds, you foolish little slag. Princes don’t marry scullery maids.”

The days after, the palace became a flurry of activity with the upcoming ball. Theta barely had enough time to get dressed in the morning before he was shuffled off for a fitting or dance lesson, but he still managed to find the time to sneak away to the library in the hopes of running into Rose. It wasn’t until shortly thereafter Theta got to see Rose again. It was only after she helped him and his grandfather sneak through an opening in a wall that he realized it would be the last time.


End file.
